


To Fix Broken Things

by Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon SW Universe - alternate timeline, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gingerose, Gingerrose - Freeform, GingerroseKinkWeeks, Mildly Dubious Consent, tags will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birchwoods01/pseuds/Brit%20Hux-Tico
Summary: The Galaxy is at war, and the First Order seems to be winning. All is filled with despair, until a flower meets a general.A canon-divergent series of kink-smut pieces that loosely weave together a common storyline.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 23
Kudos: 41
Collections: GingerRose Kink Weeks





	To Fix Broken Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose lives and works as a mechanic on Hays Minor, loathing the presence of First Order soldiers who boss the villagers around. That is, until she meets The General.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My contribution to Day 1 of Kink Weeks: Uniform kink! 
> 
> Thanks to [ Elfmaideoflight ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight) for doing a beta read on this for me. 
> 
> Please read the tags. The sex in this is dubiously consenting-ish.

Hays Minor is kriffing cold. It’s covered in ice and rock and sometimes snow, but generally speaking, the surface is a death-scape of frozen, barren wasteland. Nothing survives on the surface without modern technological wearable clothing that keeps the outside elements from getting in. 

But it’s beautiful, and Rose Tico was born here, so she loves it. 

She’s lived here all of her life, spent all of her childhood days as a tiny, chubby baby running around the underground tunnels that her people made their home. She wasn’t alone, but had a mother and father she annoyed with her pesky attitude and propensity for getting into trouble, and an older sister who first found her obnoxious and could not stand to be around her, but had eventually gotten used to her presence. 

Paige, Rose’s older sister, was gorgeous and talented, a pilot of the low to land skimmers that Haysian people flew on the brutal surface of the planet to get from one mining location to another. She had a lot of suitors, both male and female, but Paige was a career driven woman, and hungered for more than the life of a spouse. 

Paige hungered and lusted for First Order blood. 

Rose didn’t necessarily blame her. She, herself, felt an uncontrollable, undeniable loathing for the individuals who made it quite apparent, month after month, who it was that  _ really _ owned the planets of Hays Minor and Major. Heavy booted Storm Troopers would run amok through underground villages, backing up the First Order officers that would join them in demanding taxes, mass quantities of mineral ore at cheap prices, and overall abuse the authority of the local Haysian government. 

They would take children, too, from the poor. They did not steal them so much as pressure their parents into agreeing, promising them above all that their children would be well fed and taken care of if they served the glory of the First Order. 

It was enough to make Rose sick to her stomach. 

But Rose never imagined that she’d ever need to care much about the Order. She was not talented the way that Paige was: not a fantastic pilot, not charming and witty, not slender and tall and flirtatious. Rose was slightly awkward, a little chubby, and socially inept when nervous. She preferred to hide behind pipes all day, speaking to machines and working out through their mechanics how to convey their messages to others. She was a hell of a shot with a spanner, not so much a blaster, but despite her personal inferiority to her gorgeous and accomplished sister, by the age of eighteen, Rose was doing quite well for herself. 

She had her own mechanics shop, underground and close to one of the magma centers that flowed from the planet’s core, so it was nice and toasty warm, which Rose loved. She was proud of this space that she’d grown to manage alone, provided to her by her father but ran one hundred percent only on her own work. 

Haysian people from all over the planet came for her help in fixing up their broken tech. Before long, she’d made a name for herself, and by the time she was twenty, she was inventing objects and technology to help Haysian villagers with their day to day processes as miners. 

She was famous on her little bitty planet, and Rose felt, finally, that she could step out of Paige’s shadow. 

Until the Order took notice of her… 

Soon, Officers began to visit her for assistance as well. They’d stride into her ice blue cave of a mechanics office in their Order teal and Officer gray, straight laced and walking like stiff protocol droids. Rods so deep up their ass and their noses so high in the air that she always felt looked down upon. 

They’d demand she work for them for garbage, next to nothing, a few credits for hours of dedicated time, sweat, and hard labor. Rose would stand on her own principle and tell them no. But as time passed, the Order’s presence on Hays Minor was gaining more power.. 

The First Order moved in, permanently. They took over day to day operations and ordered miners on the planet to change their safety compliance levels to dig deeper into more dangerous areas for strange ores many Haysians had never even heard of. 

Rose hated them. All of them. When they came into her shop and looked down at her like scum on their shoe, she wanted to spit in their faces and order them to get out. 

That is… until she met The General.

He came into her shop one evening after Rose had been hard at work all day long. She was bent over a large hunk of metal, sweat in her eyes, trying to weld the razor clamps back on to a broken ore digger. It was a project she’d taken free of charge for one of the villagers: a decrepit old man and his son who relied on mining work for income. 

She did not notice as he stepped inside and approached her from behind on silent-booted feet.

With protective gear over her eyes, Rose leaned in close toward the ore digger vehicle and lit the small yet mighty flame on her welding device. The roar of angry fire and bubbling metal surrounded her as she bonded the molten metal pieces together. 

Finished with the first chunk of welding, she quenched the flame and set the equipment aside, flipping the protective mask up over her face and leaning in to wince in the dim, gray light from the transparisteel planetary surface viewport above, inspecting her work. 

Pinching her teeth over a finger of one of her baggy leather gloves, Rose ripped it away with her mouth and fingered over the metal to feel for any gaps. 

“Excuse me,” the man behind her spoke. 

Rose shot up off of her rickety stool with a squeal of surprise, turning toward him as she snatched a wonky looking spanner off her messy tool table and brandished it toward him, her large chest heaving with her tight breaths beneath her yellow mechanics jumpsuit. 

“Wh-... wha-...” Rose struggled for words, her brain scrambling to make sense of the moment. But his appearance was distracting.

He was a giant in height, towering at least two feet over her, and held himself, if it were possible, even more rigidly and regal than any First Order officer she’d yet to meet. He wore an all black uniform, spotless, wrinkle-free, perfect, and a heavy worsted wool coat that belied his rank with the three white rings on his left wrist. 

_ A General _ , Rose thought to herself with a shaky sigh and a tremble of fear. 

There had never been a General on Hays, not once. 

He was terrifying. 

But he was beautiful. 

His face was pale in the strange icy glow of her work shop, gaunt and constructed with sharp edged cheekbones and a razor edged jaw. His fiery red orange hair was slicked back into a tamed and militant style, but his eyes were two glittering ice-jade jewels that held her spell bound. They were as green as the vines that grew in Paige’s secret hideaway viewing room in their home, as gray as the pretty gown her mother wore on festive occasions.

Though it was not their color that had Rose stumped, but how they gazed at her: soft, amused, interested, delighted, not like the other officers that looked at her like she was scum on the bottom of the earth. 

Rose was all at once torn on whether or not to trust this individual. 

“I have frightened you,” he spoke gently. His full, pink mouth pulled to a slightly amused angle, though not quite a smile. “That was not my intention. Forgive me.”

His accent was Imperial, a red flag. 

Rose’s stomach flooded with some sort of dark excitement. She shook her head. 

“No, you-... well yeah, yeah you did. Can I help you?”

The sooner she gave him what he wanted, the sooner he’d leave. 

The General’s gaze slid away from hers to her project, and he folded his hands behind his back, turning to walk the length of the counter she helped customers at. His booted steps clicked on the rock floor as he approached her. 

He gestured toward the ore digger at her side. 

“This ore digger,” he began as he came to a stop just beside her. “You have altered the design to work better with the flow of pressurized liquids and gases beneath the crust of the planet, yes?”

Rose stared at him in a lost stupor. 

This General understood machines… He understood… pressure, and physics, and science and…

Rose gulped, realizing she was still staring at him. 

His mouth twitched again, eyes dancing with some sort of warm humor. 

Rose’s tummy flipped. 

“Uhhhh… y-yeah, I mean… yes.”

“Yes,  _ sir.”  _ The General amended, never breaking his gaze from hers. 

Rose was instantly disputatious and sullen. No First Order officer was going to win  _ her _ over into calling him  _ sir _ . She opened her mouth to tell him so, but gagged on her words as he beat her to the punch, extending a long arm and leather gloved hand out toward her, as if in supplication. 

“At least, it would be appropriate for you to call me such should you be on my team of engineers,” he explained coolly, as if talking about the weather or time of day. “Which I very much would like, Miss Rose Tico. You should work for me.”

Rose’s mouth went dry. He knew her name, knew of her talents, perhaps even came here simply to meet her. Was her reputation in mechanical work so widely known?

She stared at his offered hand, wondering what he expected her to do with it. She looked from his palm up to his face, then back, and shook her head, feeling the little dark curls around her cheeks shake with the gesture. 

His hand receded immediately, tucked back with it’s fellow behind his back. His expression did not appear wounded or cross, despite her disagreeable nature. 

This General was not like other First Order officers. 

“A pity. I have never seen such exemplary work,” the General was ruminating as he bent over her ore digger project, somehow keeping his spine straight and his posture regal. 

Rose could not help but examine the length of him, studying the sharp and crisp edges of his demeanor with some curl of interest within. 

It frightened her. 

“However, I will not be leaving empty handed today,” he remarked as he rose to his full height. “I would like to put in an order from you, Miss Tico.”

Rose could only gape at him, her eyes wide. 

First Order officers never gave her a choice. They barged into her shop and demanded, and she did as they forced her, worried that they’d somehow press against her loved ones for leverage. 

This man gave off an entirely different aura. Perhaps he automatically assumed she’d know he could creep into her quarters at night and murder all of her family if she refused to do as he commanded. But the way he looked at her now, something unknowable and hungry crawling behind his eyes, and the after-effects of his praise, compelled Rose to do whatever he wanted. 

She turned toward the counter and reached for her banged-up and slightly broken datapad. 

“Well… how can I help you?” 

The General wanted her to manufacture droids. Rose was still giggling about it even hours after he’d left: mouse droids, little bitty ones that would roll around the hallways of great star destroyers and clean up dirt and soot and keep the hallways shiny. 

That was even how he’d described them to her, and Rose took great delight in recalling the lilting sound of his velvet, dark voice as she worked well into the night, happy to create something as menial and small as a little mouse droid. 

He had not asked her to create weapons. He had not asked her to modify functions on ore diggers that would endanger the safety protocols of underground mining.

There had been no threats, no warnings, no blustering pompous attitude. He’d simply come into her little mechanical den, complimented and praised her, and given her a task. 

In her daydreams as she worked, Rose found herself wondering why all First Order leaders couldn’t be as General Hux. 

He returned in a fortnight for his mouse droids. Rose had manufactured a hundred, as per his request. 

General Hux stood before her at the counter, inspecting each and every one of her mouse droids with a detailed and observant eye, making little sounds with his tongue against his teeth as he examined them fully. 

Rose stood to the side, fidgeting nervously with her gloves in her bare hands, her stomach churning. 

Would he be angry with her if they were not satisfactory? Would he order the execution of her mother and father because he had the power to do so?

“They are perfect.”

He rewarded her with a smile, and warmth blossomed fully through Rose as she leaned forward on her toes and beamed one in return, radiant sunshine on her features. 

“Oh wow, that’s… thanks so much, sir!” Rose gushed, overwhelmed with relief, not even aware that she’d called him by the appropriate military title. 

Hux noticed, and the smile faded from his lips, his green eyes raw as he studied her.

But Rose just blabbered on excitedly, rushing forward to show him some of the updates she’d given to one of the droids. 

“And here-... this little lever pops out and you can override the commands, make the mouse droid obey personal functions for closer quarters.”

Hux nodded and listened intently, leaning in close to her to look where she guided him with a pointing finger. 

“That’s wonderful,” he remarked. 

Rose grinned, beside herself, and reached to return the lever to it’s concealed location, but the General’s hand was there to do the same, and their fingers brushed. 

Rose stilled, her heart beating rapidly in her chest at the brush of leather to her slender, bare fingers. 

She cleared her throat and turned away, hearing the click of the lever as it was pushed into place behind her, and a subtle, gentle breath of silence as Hux stilled. 

She felt his eyes on her. Her insides tumbled. Rose hoped something would happen, but she didn’t know what. 

“How much do I owe you?” He asked instead. His voice was moving away from her, down the length of the counter. 

Rose turned to follow him with her datapad, counting up the tally on the screen. 

“Erm… uh, well,” she hem-hawed around giving him the price, just knowing that he was going to demand excessive discounts, like the other First Order officers. 

But when she slid the datapad across to him with the exorbitantly high price of credits, the man did not even bat an eyelash, but reached deep into a pocket of his General’s coat. The sack he pulled out made a heavy thud as it plopped onto the counter in front of her, the metal credits within clinking and clanking as they slid over one another. 

Rose could not help but stare at the silk satchel in awe. She scrambled for it and gathered it up in two palms, holding the heavy weight of it within her fingers. 

“There’s a tip for you as well,” the General explained, watching the way she cradled the precious funds with eager hands. 

His expression was strange: seeming to war between sorrow and anger. 

Rose smiled at him. 

“I don’t need a tip, just the funds for the work is fine,” she murmured shyly. She was all too aware how silly it sounded to try to justify that one be paid correctly for their labor, and perhaps that accounted for the way the General rose to his full height; the leather of his gloves creaked as his hands pulled into tight fists. 

“Nonsense,” he dismissed her. “You’ve earned it.”

He did not offer her a job again, though Rose was almost certain if he had, she might have accepted. The General had a droid load the mouse droids up in a delivery crate and then left with a nod of his head to her. 

Rose felt warm all over, and slightly blue as he left her shop. 

It was two months before she saw him again. 

He came back with another officer bobbing around at his heels, a ‘yes man’ named Mitaka who did every little thing the General commanded of him. 

He ordered the manufacture and maintenance of more ore diggers. 

The blueprints he offered her for the ore diggers he was ordering disregarded the safety regulations set in place by Haysian miners and the council her grandfather, Storm Tico, had been on. 

She told him so, reeling up and expecting a fight. 

“I won’t make these,” she growled through clenched teeth, her fists tight on the edges of the datapad in her hands.

Hux narrowed his eyes at her, one ginger brow pulling high on his forehead. He leaned closer over the counter, bending slightly at the waist to be just over her level, yet still somehow larger than life in his uniform. 

“I expected you to say that,” he mused, his pale green gaze flickering to Rose’s mouth and back to her eyes. 

She swallowed thickly, suddenly warm in the cheeks as she became aware of the lack of distance between them. Her hands trembled slightly. 

Today would be the day… today he would threaten her with death, with rage and torture to her people, with taxes and firing squads and underlying sexual taunts that made her skin crawl, just like all the others.

“You are the engineer,” he murmured instead, his tone even and calm. “The plans are yours to manipulate. I will return in a fortnight for the ore diggers.”

And then he left. Lieutenant Mitaka approached Rose warily and handed her a state-of-the-art datapad.

“Send the General your plans and inform him when the work is done,” Mitaka ordered her, before scurrying off after his boss.

It was hard not to second-guess if General Hux had a game. She had no doubt of who he was: a First Order man, through and through. After meeting him, she’d looked him up on the holonet, read stories of his exploits in war, watched hologram speeches he’d given to Order soldiers, propagandized statements he’d delivered to the galaxy, his beautiful face torn in two like a raving madman, his soft green eyes two round pits of fire.

This side of Hux made her blood run cold beneath her skin. 

But he’d given her permission to design as she pleased, and she did so, knowing full well that Hux could return and execute her and Paige and ma and baba. 

She altered the pressurized levels of the diggers, altered the angles of the blades, applied speed caps for safety standards the First Order had so far overlooked. 

With trembling hands and an aching heart, Rose opened the communication panel on the datapad the Lieutenant had given her, finding the communication serial number for “General Hux” had been pre-programed into the device and lay waiting, the cursor that would type out her message and obey her file transfer commands blinking at her on the screen. 

Her fingers shook as she typed out her message.

**Pressure capped at variable 1000, other adjustments to follow in blueprint.**

It took him two days to reply, but the words did funny things to Rose’s heart within her chest, made it jump and skip and turn twirly little loops that made her faint. 

**Excellent work. Accept this promotion to Major.**

It felt like he was teasing her, again, but her cheeks lit up and she sprawled in her workers chair, feet planted up against the wall as she read his words. 

_ Major… _

The word repeated in her brain. She had to look up the ranking on the holonet, and it was leagues below his, but above a cadet. 

It made Rose laugh to herself, rolling her eyes and scoffing at her delight, but inwardly she loved this attention. 

It was always Paige who’d been seen, not Rose. It was Paige who had the fun titles and respect and admiration, not Rose. 

Tempted to message the General again, Rose forced herself to place the datapad beneath the counter and get back to work. 

He sent Mitaka in his stead to pick up the ore diggers when they were ready. 

Rose could barely hide her disappointment. When the Lieutenant had left, insisting Rose keep the datapad,  _ It was a gift from the General _ , Rose held the slim technology in her hands, chewing her bottom lip as she watched the communication app in long, aching moments, hoping for a word. 

It was two more months before she saw him again. 

Rose was walking with Paige in the market near the surface of the planet. The sky above was a larger version of the transparisteel viewport in her mechanics office. Ice was falling on the surface of the planet in sheets of sleet and snow, melting from the underground heat almost as soon as it hit the viewport, dripping off the sides like rain. 

Below, vendors with colorful carts were out hocking their wares, shouting to any passerby the things they had for sale, great bulging pink fruits with rough skins, slabs of fishes harvested from the underground water collections, fried dough balls with bits of squid meat on sticks smothered in sticky syrup sauce, and bolts of cloth for sewing, repurposed tools and technology. 

“Ma and Baba know you’ve been helping the First Order,” Paige spoke snidely as they wove their way amongst the vendors. 

Rose rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 

“I haven’t been helping the Order,” she sniped back. “Not at all.”

Paige turned and gave her a flat look that read  _ Sure, honey _ with all the sarcasm she could muster. 

Rose flinched before her but refused to back down. 

“I’ve been doing what no one else will do: diplomatically settling differences.”

Paige ignored her and strolled forward, picking up speed, intentionally putting distance between them. Rose grit her teeth and followed, quickly, shaking her head. 

“No, you don’t-... you don’t get to treat me like this! I gave blueprints to General Hux and he’s listening to me, a civilian, actually listen-”

Paige whirled on Rose, her beautiful, slanted eyes piercing her with a sharp glare. 

“Who is? Did you say-... did you actually  _ just say _ General Hux?”

Rose had the decency to look ashamed for two seconds before she snapped back, her fists clenched tight at her sides. 

“He listens to me. He isn’t cruel or-”

Just then, a holographic board displayed high above the market shifted from an advertisement for intergalactic travel via luxury liner to a First Order propaganda slogan. 

Rose watched, expression sour, her gut churning with guilt, as Hux’s prim, Imperial accent flooded the space with his hopes for a “better galaxy” through “honor, glory, and commitment” to the “First Order”. 

Paige snorted a dark laugh. 

“You’re gonna get us all killed, Rosie.”

Her sister pushed forward through the market again, but Rose remained rooted to the spot. She watched her weave through the small crowd of people, her long, silken black hair swaying behind her, her light, thin form moving with grace that Rose envied with her whole entire heart. 

Rose wasn’t a child. And she was tired of being treated like one. 

Sullen yet not wanting to go home alone, Rose pushed forward after Paige, finding her body frozen standing still with a clump of other bodies shaped in a ring. The chatter of the market died down, and as Rose approached, the sound of screaming voices rose above the general clatter. 

“Have mercy-!!” A Haysian man was begging at the top of his lungs, prostrate on his knees, hands clasped prayerfully and raised toward the man in black standing above him. 

The man, a Captain from the emblems on his upper left arm, sneered coldly at the Haysian man at his feet. In his hands was a riding crop, and he had it extended threateningly high up in the air. 

“You were told to double your previous quota in ore this week,” the Captain snarled at him, his dark eyes black from the width of his pupils. 

The man at his feet broke into tears, and murmurs of disappointment rimmed the area. 

“My back gave out… I have not been to work in days, I could barely get out of bed, have mercy.”

The Captain was sweating now, realizing he had made a scene for no good reason. But he had to save face, now this was a public scene, and his gloved hand tightened on the riding crop, his arm shifting as if he might swing. 

“At ease, Captain,” came General Hux’s voice cutting through the gloom. 

Rose turned instantly to seek his face in the crowd, her heart thudding in time with each and every step he took as he broke through the circle. He reached forward and took the riding crop, elegantly gentle, from the Captain’s hand. 

The Captain stiffened as the riding crop transferred hands, his expression now white and ghostly as he trembled, saluting his General. 

“G-G-... General, sir,” he barked as he did so. 

“As you were,” was the uttered reply. 

Rose watched, transfixed, as Hux stepped forward and muttered something quietly to the Captain. She could only see the faint outline of his lips, the angry flash of his eyes, the hard edge of his jaw and the sharp cut of his cheekbones as he clenched his teeth. 

His gloved hands were tight around the crop. 

Rose swallowed and averted her eyes. 

The Captain saluted Hux once more and hurried away, out of the circle. Rose watched as Hux turned and offered a hand to the Haysian on the floor. 

The Haysian did not take it, but struggled to his feet, grunting with pain as he pushed upward on his hands and knees. Some Haysian citizens rushed forward to help their elder, supporting him beneath his arms. 

“See that he gets treated in the medical quarter,” Hux uttered low to them. 

They hurried the Haysian away, not even bothering to mutter a thank you. Beside Rose, Paige snorted with righteous indignation, but Rose was watching Hux. 

His eyes found hers over the heads in the crowd. She watched, transfixed, as his gaze swept over her, head to toe. Her breath trembled from barely parted lips as she watched him tilt his chin, just barely, to the side and up, and he raised his left hand, crop closed in his fist, and slipped two fingers within the cuff of his glove, tugging it up his wrist, never breaking their stare. 

Rose’s entire body vibrated with longing, a feeling which, up until now, had been relatively foreign to her. Heat seared through her limbs and down into her toes, and she clasped her hands together to steady herself, tearing her gaze from his palm and forcing herself to meet his stare once more. 

His expression was sound and fury, and made Rose go weak in the knees. 

She reached for Paige, reached to ground herself in stability and the known. Finding her hand, she tugged on it, and Paige moved to guide her back through the market to their home. 

When Rose looked back, Hux was gone. 

Weeks went by and Rose did not see him again. Stories of First Order soldiers subjugating Haysian people were national news. More Haysian’s ended up in the medical quarter with wounds from mining related accidents. The smog around the planet’s core increased, as the First Order continually disregarded mining regulations. 

Rose argued with her Baba over dinner. He came home with an awful cough from inhaling dust in the mines all day. 

“I tampered with the First Order’s ore digger blueprints!” Rose insisted, raising her voice over his head, her fists stamped down on the table. 

“I don’t know what you think you did, Rosie,” he bit back at her as he sawed at his ration meat portion on his plate. “But the diggers tear through the soil like beasts… You must have been fooled.”

When one of the new ore diggers was damaged and brought to her to fix, Rose discovered it was so. 

None of her adjustments remained, but had instead been artfully counter-acted by someone of equal or greater technological skill than she. 

Rose fell into her seat at her work station, dejected and nauseous, a hand pressed over her forehead as she stared at the bit of machinery that was tearing her homeworld apart. 

He had lied to her. General Hux was not different, or rather… he was. But he was not kind, and he was not to be trusted. 

Broiling with rage, Rose rushed to the counter and snatched up the datapad. She poured her wrath and her vengeance and rage into her messages, slandered the man that dared to appease her with praise and then step behind her back and modify her attempts at cooperation. 

She seethed with violence, her heart felt wretched and shriveled and sharp, like someone had stomped it into the earth and stuffed it full of sewing pins just for fun. 

Before the General could explain himself, could placate her, could mollify her like everyone else, she turned and smashed the datapad as hard as she could against the counter, smashed it until pieces of transparisteel sheeting flew every which way, smashed it until bits of computer hardware and wire components were spitting sparks at her and crumbling to dust. 

The General visited the next day. 

He stood in the entryway of her mechanic shop, studying her from a great distance. 

Rose loathed how her body reacted to see his tall, doom-dark presence swallowing up the pneumatic doorway behind him, to see his lovely hair pressed back and his broad shoulders holding up the uniform he wore. 

She pressed her thighs together from her seat and sneered at him. 

“The shop is closed,” she bit out, and turned her head sharply away, returning to the process of laying out her tools for the day. 

His steps clicked as he moved toward her, careful step by step by step by step, until he stopped just behind her counter. 

His breathing was even, a gentle hum that lulled the panicked thoughts in her mind. 

“Go the kriff away,” Rose snapped, throwing him a hateful look over her shoulder. 

Hux did not move, but stared at her, his gaze eerily blank, face a mask of steel. 

Rose got to her feet, instinct telling herself to be bigger than him, to be stronger, and he would back down. But he didn’t even flinch. 

“I never lied to you,” he stated coldly. 

Rose shivered at the sound of his voice, her face scrunching up with fury. 

“Your work is excellent,” he went on, calm as the surface of a placid lake on a day with no breeze. “Your talent and ability are to be cherished and marveled, to be honed and sharpened as one does a knife.”

He moved to come around the counter then, and Rose clenched her fists, shifting her little body to stand her ground. 

Hux came closer, step after careful step, his lips tilted, half amused. 

“However, I am fighting to win a war, Miss Tico.” His eyes sharpened as he drew closer, as he edged around her, carefully, so as not to skitter a frightened animal. 

“Sacrifices must be made.”

Rose reached a hand behind her and grasped the first tool she could find blindly with her hand as he stalked closer, mere steps away from her. 

If he tried to touch her, if he came nearer, if he continued to look at her like that, she would-

His boot stepped inches from her, and Rose snapped. With an alarming cry, Rose swung her armed hand out toward him, taking a hammer toward his face. 

The General moved like a panther, his chest bowed in to dodge her blow, his normally rigid body fluid as water, and in the same moment he ducked, he was somehow up and moving toward her once more, his gloved hands having reached out, lightning fast, and latched onto her wrists. 

She struggled in his grasp, working her voice up into a high pitched scream, and he was on her in seconds, pinning her back against her worktable with his hips, running his tight fist up the length of her arm toward her hand. 

She grunted and moved to kick into his crotch, but he subdued her legs with his thighs, and tightened his grip around her wrist until she cried out at the white-hot pain, tears pricking her eyes, and dropped the hammer. It clattered to the floor and slammed hard, skidding partially away, then was still. 

His hands loosened on her wrists and he was leaning in, still holding her, his chest flush to hers as he loomed over her. 

His lips brushed her ear. 

“Shhhhh, my dear,” he was whispering, the breath of his words ghosting down her throat and haunting her heart. “Be still, be still.”

The tears continued to roll from her eyes, and she whimpered, but calmed, turning her head at an angle, chasing the velvet feel of his lips. 

“That’s it,” he purred, now running his mouth along her jaw. He tipped her face upward with two fingers, and nudged his nose along the pale curve of her throat. 

Rose quivered with delight, her mind swollen with hunger, unable to think clearly as every biological instinct and desire practically raved and crooned at his touch. Her free hand migrated up the lapel of his coat, and she clasped it as her thoughts sung in melodious peels through her mind:  _ yes. _

She had wanted him since discovering he was different, unaware that he had wanted her from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her. 

But things had changed, and even as his hands migrated southward, as he trusted her hands to be free, as he groped above her rough mechanics suit to find the soft places of her body, Rose came back to herself. 

She tilted her head upward and stared at his beautiful, chiseled features. She raised a hand and traced the outline of his right cheekbone with her fingertips, stroked down to find his lips with the pad of her thumb, and swallowed air like glass as she felt his growing erection press into her belly. 

Her hands knifed into his hair and she yanked on it, reveling in the hiss Hux expelled in pain. Rose held one short moment of victory as her lips pulled into a wide smile, forgetting her loathing and vicious feeling for just one second, and then he was on her.

Hoisting her up onto the table, bluprint papers and tools and a mug of day-old caf went flying, most crashing to the floor and scattering across the space. 

But his mouth was on hers, his tongue forcing entry, and Rose gagged on the slick heat of him, tears pilling in the corner of her eyes. 

His gloved hands gripped her ass; he pulled her close, her canvas-protected cunt jerked against the hot, hard girth of him beneath his uniform. 

Rose tried to scramble away, her instinct to fight back, but he held her still with firm grasp, turned his head to stroke his tongue against hers, curling the tip beneath and teasing the tender vein below. Saliva built between them, and Rose shoved at his arms even as she groaned, her legs widening and wrapping around him, pulling him closer. 

Hux pulled from her mouth, and Rose chased the loss of him with her tongue, flat out moaning as he sucked on the tip, a flash of heat and swell of damp making itself present between her legs. 

“Lean back, petal,” Hux was breathing over her flesh as he kissed her neck. 

Rose did as he asked, compelled. She studied the three white rings on his wrist. 

_ This man is power _ . 

Her back arched as he stroked a gloved hand down her torso, fingering along her breast and her ribs, commanding his puppet. 

“I’m going to offer you a job again,” he murmured as his fingers found the zipper of her jumpsuit. 

Rose lay flat against the work table, her eyes hazy as she studied him, trying desperately to push away the guilt and shame gnawing away at her for reveling in this man’s touch. 

“And this time, you’re going to say yes.”

Hux was staring at her completely nude form beneath the canvas jumpsuit, studying the soft, rounded curve of her belly, his jaw clenching tight as he worked the suit down at her hips. 

Rose had to look away, her face burning in dark red heat from embarrassment, unable to keep from wondering if he thought her lack of underthings was barbaric,  _ common _ .

“I-,” she tried, even as his mouth was on her abdomen, as his tongue laved across her flesh, as his teeth nibbled and her pussy moaned and her hips writhed and she would kill him if he stopped. 

“I don’t want to,” she finally groaned as his mouth found her core. 

Hux did not have to set her straight. His mouth did it for him. 

Rose’s back peeled and curved off of the table as he swept his tongue between the puffy shape of her labia, crushing his mouth into the whole of her and devouring her with thick swipes of his nose and tongue, slurping and slippery, like a starved barbarian with a blood-orange gift. 

His gloved hands slipped beneath her thighs and held her still, pulled her to his face, and as he nipped and swirled and tucked his tongue in her soft, hidden places, Rose pumped her legs in the air, struggling for purchase, and clamped them tight around him, digging her fingers into his hair to take hold. 

He fucked her with his tongue, curled his slick, swollen muscle up along the roof of her, bobbed his nose against her clit, and she was sensitive, too sensitive, still a baby in many regards to her sexuality, and she came undone like fire. 

Rose tore at his hair, screamed through shaking, pursed lips, as coils of pleasure lashed within her like flame, claws of a hot dragon peeling through her flesh. 

Hux didn’t stop, and something was inside her, something thick, something that dragged on her core as he pumped in and out of her. 

His tongue was on her again, not inside, but somewhere more north, and he was flicking it repeatedly. 

Fluids oozed between her legs; Hux slurped at them as he thrummed faster within her, and Rose tightened her legs around him, again, as the monster of her orgasm revisited her body. 

She convulsed in a miasma of pain and pleasure, beaten and shaken on the table, her throat swollen with aggravated cries. 

She begged him to stop, begged him to pull away, begged him to leave her be, to quit this sensation, but he pushed her, and mouthed her into a second wave that turned her into a puddle of jelly. 

When the tide receded, Rose lay still on the table, her legs limp around his face, her eyes wide open, her face purple with shame. 

Hux lapped her pussy gently, soothed it with damp pets of his tongue, and when she was not so filthy or soaked entirely through, he got to his feet.

Rose could barely stand to look at him, but she tried, and shivered as he moved to remove one of his gloves, a glossy, slick substance gleaming on the end of two fingers. 

He pocketed the glove, then reached for a mechanic rag on the table, and wiped his face. 

Rose did not dare move. 

“So, Rose,” Hux began, taking up his typical regal stance beside her. 

Rose studied his glittering eyes and smug expression, heart torn between feelings of loathing and lust. 

“Will you come work for me?”

Rose shivered on the table, her pussy tingling between her thighs, her heart slowing to a subtle still as she tried to summon a reason to tell him no. 

“Yes.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments make authors want to write more, so feel free to leave one! You can follow me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ardentlyloveyou)!


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